#bridget von hammersmarck

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Hell-Bent (DonnyxReader)

Continuation of The Traitor and the Bear Jew & Home for the Holidays

Requested by @svonschroeder​

@inglourious-imagines @war-obsessed @owba-chan

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these! :)

Donny was straightening out his bow-tie, lost in his own repetitive scenarios and worries.  He was scared. It wasn't the prospect of walking into the theater and never coming back out that scared him. It was that something much worse would happen to you. "But what if this Landa guy recognizes you?!" "He won't." You had enough of this war. You once wanted to start a new life, with Donny, far away from the ruins of your home. Then you got Operation Kino. In no scenario was Donny making it out of the war alive...and you decided to go with him. Donny groaned in frustration, "They ran your face in the papers all over the place when they found out you weren't dead. How is he not going to recognize you?!" Hugo peered from the bed of the makeshift infirmiry. He and Wicki had survived...but barely. Hicox wasn’t so lucky... Hugo managed to mutter, “Donny hat recht. Bleib hier.”  "Donny's right. Stay here." You shook your head, “Nein, ich gehe.” “No. I’m going.” You looked to Bridget for help. She was pulling on her heels, and looked at the boys. "I need at least one other person there who can actually speak Italian."

Aldo sighed...He was originally going to put either Hirschberg or Smitty in your place, but he knew one thing for sure. Everyone carrying out a part of Operation Kino inside the cinema was never coming back home. Donny was the first to volunteer for it. He wanted to be the one to kill Hitler. That was a given... But Aldo knew something else: You couldn't live without Donny, and Donny wouldn't be at peace knowng you were miserable without him. Besides, Bridget was right. They needed you to make their act more convincing. Then you would be 'Catia Barbarino,' stylist to Bridget von Hammersmark. A final card from the Basterds, and once again, a traitor to the nazis.

You looked into the mirror, and swiped on a copper-red lipstick, and wore a long, emerald green dress, covering the sticks of dynamite around your ankles. Bridget lent you a ring to make it more convincing. Everyone was in the next room, having one last drink. Donny came up behind you. "Are you sure you want to do this, doll?" "Are you?" He sighed and looked down. "I'm not going home until Hitler's dead. I'm gonna do it myself." "Then I'm going with you."  His head tilted a little, and his eyes grew soft when he saw that your love for him matched his hatred for the enemy.

"Donny, I can't live without you. Don’t ask me to stay here again." "Don't do this...Don't go. I-" "You’re not the only one with a vendetta. Remember that." He smirked a little as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him. He nodded in surrender, and sighed as he looked down at you. “You look beautiful, doll.” He pretended he was ok with everything, but...he was still worried you'd be recognized. Still, there was no one else he wanted by his side when he took down the nazi regime. A few hours later, his world seemed to collapse when Landa approached them. Still, somehow it all seemed alright. "MARGHERITIIIII!!!!!"

Landa looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, you couldn't read someone. He asked for your name. "E il tuo nome?" "Catia Barbarino." He nodded. Landa gave the impression that he believed you. In reality, he was just impressed you'd made it this far. He also enjoyed tracking your fake names through the years.  All six of you stopped talking for a tense moment, wondering what the next few hours would entail.  Not everyone was going to make it out alive, everyone had that clear.  Bridget quickly broke the silence, fearing that any more contact with Landa would cost them all dearly. "Lei è la sua fidanzata." She told Landa you were Donny's fiancee. It was not true...But Donny did make a certain face, Omar did smirk, and Aldo did smile a little.

Bridget had noticed Landa looking at the ring around your gloved left ring-finger. It was really Bridget’s ring. And given that you were her ‘stylist’ a bit too grand for someone of your occupation.  Bridget heard Hugo tell Wicki in German that Donny wanted to propose to you, until the basterds were assigned to Operation Kino...there would be no point then... It sort of slipped. Bridget panicked, trying to keep Landa from asking too many questions. Landa congratulated you and Donny. Then, realizing Donny and Omar were choking on their Italian, Bridget managed to get Landa to allow you, Donny, and Omar to take your seats in the cinema.

0023 0024 0025... You sat in seat 0025, beside Donny. Your hands were entwined, much like your fates had been for two years. His hands were steady. His heart was set on Operation Kino. His eyes were set on you, one last time... You would have gladly sat there until it all ended, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. You looked at the two emty seats following yours. Aldo and Bridget should have been there by then... Donny followed your gaze. You turned to him, and whispered softly, "Donny?" He sighed, looking back at the seats again, then at your eyes. He nodded with certainty, and you smiled broken-heartedly. Something told you that things would never be the same again. You rested your hands on his cheeks, as your eyes became teary and he smiled at you, one last time. He kissed you. And you were gone... As you passed Omar, you saw he was smiling widely, as he repeated under his breath "sua fidanzata"

You chuckled a little, though your heart felt heavy. You looked through the lobby, it was mostly empty, save for Aldo standing in the middle, with a glass of champagne in his hand. You were halfway up the stairs then, and Aldo turned around, hearing the click of high heels, thinking it might be Bridget. He was confused when he saw you, but then he glanced at the room where Landa had taken Bridget, and nodded at you. You nodded once to your lieutenant, and made your way to the door. Your excuse for retrieving her would be to touch up her makeup for the cameras... You stood at the door, and heard Landa give an order, "The guy in the white smoking jacket." He opened the door unexpectedly, and found you as you looked back to see a group of nazis attack Aldo and take his weapons from him. "ALDO!"

In the middle of his insults, he glanced up at you, with another reasuring nod, then resumed his shouting as the nazis dragged him away. You were reaching for your purse, where you'd hidden a gun. Landa reached for your wrist, "Now, now, Private L/N, don't be rash." You clenched your jaw. So he did recognize you... He was right. A gunshot would alert all the guards... You’d end Operation Kino before it even began. He pulled you into the room. You saw her shoes on the ground...your could hear your heart beat in your ears as you braved a glance across the room. There, you found Bridget von Hammersmark, lifeless. She was lost in the hands of an unforgiving fate. Landa’s hands, to be precise. 

Not unlike you. You whispered, "Bridget..."  She was not supposed to die... Not like that. Not that night.

Landa was cool and collected as he paced in front of you.."Well, well, well. If it isn't the traitorous Y/n L/n." "Villains really need to get a better spiel, you know." He looked shocked, as if he were truly offended by your words. "I am most certainly not a villain, liebling. I resent that!"

"You are the Jew-Hunter, aren't you?" "I'm a detective. I do my job. And I do it right." He gestured to the corpse, and a wave of rage ran a chill down your spine, and boiled your blood as he looked at you, "We're very much alike, you and I, liebling." "Don't call me that. We are nothing alike." "No? You're German. I'm German. You're a killer. I'm a killer. We both look at the possible outcomes of our decisions: Yours was to be a traitor, and mine was to stay loyal to the third reich. And here we are, looking at the possible outcomes of killing each other...and in your case and of your friends: yourselves." "I kill nazis. You kill people." He chuckled, "Jews are no more than rod-" You took a step forward. Your fists were clenched. You didn't need a gun. You were a basterd. "Watch your words, Landa." He countered like a child on a playground, and sneered, "Watch yours, private!" There was a knock at the door, and as you were face to face, he remarked, "Ah... we find ourselves in a compromising position. I advise you to stay quiet, and still. No tricks."

You clenched your teeth and nodded. You heard him utter 'clever' outside, and come back in with Aldo's knife, his explosives, and jacket. "Scheisse..." Your mind raced with all the possible horrible things that could be happening to Aldo at that moment. You were a traitor. You once had eyes on the inside...you knew the extent of the enemy’s inhumanity. Your rage was hardly contained at that point, "You're a coward, Landa." He smirked a little as he poured himself a glass of champagne, "Why do you say that?" You glared at him, "You killed her. She was a good woman. A fucking civilian. She's not a soldier, she's not a-" "She was a spy and a traitor, much like yourself, Private L/n." He took a menacing step forward, Aldo's knife in hand, as you stared at each other, hell-bent on getting revenge. He laughed a little, like a madman "Is it such a sin?" "She was innocent." Landa slammed his fist on the table, "A liar and traitor just like you!" he turned back around, and you were both aiming guns at each other. He smiled again. "Kill me, they'll look for a gunman. They know about Aldo, they saw you with him. They saw your fiance a...Oh he's not really your fiance is he? Shame...Thought you made a handsom pair and all...Disgraceful as it is, for a German like you and a Jew, well I must admit young Mr. Donowitz is a fine looking young man, good match for you...Shame, really, all this." You had your gun aimed between Landa’s eyes. You didn’t move, you didn’t speak. "They find him and your friend Omar. Your mission is kaput. And their fate is much worse than what you planned." "So you want us to stand like this until it’s all over?" “It's a possibility..." He sighed “not a practical one, mind you.” He lowered his gun...and you did too. "My disappearance and yours will raise suspicions. You know that, colonel." He paced around, thumb at his chin, as if in deep thought, "I have a better idea, private..." he turned, disarmed you, and stabbed you with Aldo's knife before you could even take a breath.

You were stunned for a moment. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were supposed to die alongside Omar and Donny, destroying the third reich, and avenging millions.  There you stood, so close to them, yet so far from your destiny.   The searing pain, the uncertainty of the mission... The tides had turned for the blade used against so many nazis before... You couldn't say a word... Blood pooled through your dress. You grew cold and numb. Your knees buckled, and Landa crouched by you as you kneeled weakly. He leaned in and murmured, "Do me a favor, liebling. Don't die now. You may just be useful to me just yet..." He pulled the knife out slowly, and left you there. He took your gun and Aldo's things, and left the room. You were sprawled out on the ground, the opposite side of the room as Bridget. Your eyes burned with agony and rage as you looked up. "So endet es also ..." 'So this is how it ends...' **** The theater was full, the movie had started, and neither the lieutenant, the spy, or the traitor came back. Donny and Omar were in the bathroom, about to carry on with their mission. Donny was pushing for some hope, "You sure you didn't see her in the theater? Maybe she forgot where we were sitting." Omar shook his head slowly, "She didn't forget...She didn't come back."

Donny nodded. That could only mean one of two things: You were either dead or once again, a traitor. He knew you wouldn't betray the basterds.

And his heart shattered knowing what that meant, He nodded slowly, numb, but with a mission. "Mission goes on, Omar..." Orders from high command were that they were to carry out Operation Kino at all costs.  Omar shook his head. "No. No, Aldo and the woman didn't come back either. Something's going on." Donny turned his back on Omar, and leaned onto the sink, looking down. "Operation Kino goes on. It's what they would have wanted." Omar caught a glimpse of Donny's eyes in the mirror. They were filled with rage and sorrow. The rage wanted vengeance for everything and everyone the nazis had taken from the world. The sorrow was the realization it didn’t matter if you weren’t there with him... The sorrow was the realization that as of now, you were one of the millions lost at the nazis’ hands.  Donny was now more than willing to die in that cinema for his lieutenant, for Hicox, for the spy, and most of all, for you... Omar rested his hand on Donny's shoulder, "We said we'd die together, or we don't die at all. Something happened to them, but we don't know that they're dead. I'm not dying unless I know what really happened to them."

Donny stayed silent, still looking down at the sink. "Donny....I know you want to see her one last time." If Donny had you by his side when it all happened, there would be no hesitation... And even if the only logical explanation was that you were captured and killed, somehow he felt you were still close. "I owe it to her, kid. Hugo and Wicki almost died last night. England lost a good soldier there." His voice was low, but vengeful. You were the closest thing Hugo had to family, and Donny knew that. "We need to get this right. For Y/n.... For everyone. We have to do this, Omar, means we have to die too... We have our orders." Omar’s voice was soft, "Donny?" Donny sighed, "Yeah, kid?" "You love her. I know you don't wanna do this without her." "This is our mission. It always has been." Donny shook his head, trying to block out Omar’s logic. "But-" "Ulmer." Donny took on the tone of a sergeant. It was a warning to Omar.

Omar wasn't scared anymore. Not when they were so close to ending it all. "With all due respect, sarge-" "We have orders, Ulmer. If someone falls behind tonight they...they stay behind." Those orders came directly from the brass, Omar knew that. Orders are orders... "Then fuck the rules." "Ulmer-" "You can't follow orders if you needa follow your heart...Just this once... Donny, you love her. You got a  heart, sarge. That's what sets you apart from those nazis in there." Donny was silent again. "Look. We kill Hitler, and the high command in there, throw the dynamite, then find the others.  There's a chance, Donny..." Donny nodded slowly and sighed. He looked through the doorway then back at Omar. He took off his jacket. "When I kill that guy, you got thirty seconds to kill that guard. Can you do it?" Omar smirked a little, but they were back in busines... And business was a'boomin'. "I have to."

****** Aldo and Smitty were thrown in the back of a truck. "Utivich?" "Is that you lieutenant?" Smitty was audibly afraid. He was supposed to keep watch on the roof of the tavern across the street from the cinema.  He saw the nazis drag Aldo out of the cinema. By the time he turned around, he was cornered and outnumbered himself. "Yeah." "Do you know what happened to Donny? Omar? The woman? Y/n?" Aldo had his theories, but Utivich's voice already sounded  unsteady.   He just said, "No I do not." The truck came to a sudden stop. They heard nazis struggling against someone, and then the sound of a body being flung into the truck. "Boys? Y/n?" Utivich was trying not to cry. He was so certain that they would end the war that night... He was holding out for some hope. As long as the nazis didn't have you or the boys, the basterds still had a slight chance.  "Miss von Hammersmark?" There was a half-second delay. "It's me..." Your voice shattered them. They'd never heard you sound like that. So broken, so lost...so weak.... Aldo had almost lost you once. And that was the closest he ever your heard sound like that. "Y/n? Y/n, they hurt you?!" He started to stand up, but a guard pulled his down. Aldo struggled against him, but got nowhere. "Come on, kid. Speak to me." You coughed a little. You wiped away the blood that dribbled from the corner of your mouth. "He got von Hammersmarck." You were thankful Aldo and Uti couldn’t see you then.  "He what?" You took a breath. "He killed her." The world around you spun, and seemed to burn with the embers of what could have been... Maybe Donny was right. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone... Maybe then, Landa wouldn’t have caught on.  Everything would have gone according to plan... Smitty asked, "You....Y/n, what about you? Wh-why do you sound like that?" "Don't...Don’t worry about me, Smitty." They noticed you were forcing your voice to sound more put together, and a bit louder.  Aldo wanted to know how bad it was, without having to force it out of you. "They put a hood on you and cuff you too?" "No, sir." That answered his question. They didn't even bother to handcuff you because they knew you weren't going to make it very far anyway. After losing your wits, your blood, and Donny, you didn’t realize Aldo was able to deduce that from your answer. "Don't worry about me, Aldo..." "Don't tell me not to wory about my goddamn boys. I'm gon' worry bout em kids till we're gone.” Aldo took a breath... the way it looked, they’d all be gone sooner than he thought. “What the fuck they do to you, soldier? How do you feel?" "He got me Aldo, he got me good. Use-used y-your knife..." You started to shiver, and struggled to keep your eyes open.  Smitty leaned his head against the side of the truck, clenching his jaw, and the knot in his throat.  There was nothing he or Aldo could do...not even hold your hand. Aldo's mind raced with the image of his knife, digging into countless scalps.  That knife, paired with a merciless nazi meant no hope for you. "I'm sorry, Y/n... I shoulda known Operation Kino was too risky..."  Your eyes rested on the roof of the truck. One arm across the wound, drenched in your own blood. The other arm at your side, cold and numb. You shook your head, eyes never abandoning the ceiling. "We're soldiers, sir. We follow orders." You were all silent for some time. Roughly five minutes. But with the hoods, and your impending last breath, Aldo got worried. It was too quiet. "Y/n? How're you holdin' up, kid?" "Cold..." Was all you could manage to mumble... Aldo and Smitty could barely hear you at that point. Smitty's voice was broken as he uttered, "Fuck..." Hopeless, forgotten tears streamed down his hooded face. Aldo struggled against his handcuffs in vain, trying to get to you, and offer you any comfort he could. Operation Kino was a failure, and most, if not all, the basterds would be killed before sunrise. The war would go on. It all would have been for nothing... The truck slowed down and stopped, and the nazis started pulling Aldo and Smitty down. Both of them struggled against the enemy for years... It seemed so cruel for it to end like this. You were most likely going to die cold, alone, and in a pool of your own blood in that truck. Something Aldo and Smitty couldn't abide by... They managed to drag Aldo away, though he looked back one last time, "Y/n?! Listen to me, listen to me, kid! Everything’s gon ' be ok! Ya hear?!” He looked down at the blod, then turned away as his voice lowered in heartbreak, “Y-ya hear..." Even he didn't believe himself... Smitty managed to kneel by your side for a moment, "Y/n? I'm sorry...I'm sorry we have to go..." You nodded, even if he couldn't see. You felt his warm knee at your forearm. Your cold, shaking hands reached out to his shoulder... The blood on your hands soaked his shirt, though you couldn't feel it anymore. "Y/n..." "It's ok, Smitty...We tried." "I c...I can't leave you alone..." You shook your head. "There are worse ways to die, love..." You thought of Omar and Donny. They were probably going to be tortured and then shot against a wall. If they weren't already being tortured... You watched as the nazis dragged Aldo and Smitty away... You tried to get up, you wanted more than anything to fight them and get freedom for your boys, and a fighting chance for Donny and Omar... But you could barely keep your eyes open at that point. A tear streamed down your cheek, thinking perhaps it was all your fault... ******* Aldo eyed the glass of wine in front of him...which he couldn't reach. In no scenario would Donny and Omar survive: They'd either carry out the mission, and die as planned. Or die in the hands of nazis... Aldo looked at a clock, and sighed. You barely had any time left, if you weren't already dead. It wouldn't be long before the nazis zeroed in on Hirschberg. It wouldn't be to hard for them to find Wicki and Hugo, and finish the job. He and Smitty would most likely be killed by Hans Landa himself. Still, Aldo, much like you, couldn't quite read Landa. "But I digress...where were we? Ja. Make a deal." He gestured behind Aldo and Smitty, "Over there is a very capable two-way radio. And sitting behind it is a more than capable radio operator named...Herman..." He looked as if he had uncovered the secrets of the universe, "Get me someone on the other end of that radio to authorize my...let's call terms of my conditional surrender." Aldo was silent. "Get me someone on the other end of that radio I spare Hugo, Wilhelm, Gerold, Smithson, and yourself, and I'll call for someone to save your friend. That traitor....I suppose my ally now, if all goes well.” Utivich turned to look at Aldo. The last thing any soldier would want is to die alone...  Both of them knew that. Utivich looked to Aldo, eyes pleading.

*******

Donny and Omar were covered in drops of blood, but their hands and consciences were clean. Hitler, Bormann, Goerring, and Goebbels were dead. 

The war was over. They threw the dynamite down when they still had time, and ran through the cinema, searching for a sign from you, Aldo, or Bridget. They searched every supply closet, every opera box. "Donny!" Doonny turned around, smiling, holding out for a some hope. Instead, he saw the grave expression on Omar's face. He peered into the room. There, they saw Bridget von Hammersmarck, dead in a corner. On the other side, they saw the glint of your gun on the ground, and the ring Bridget convinced Landa was your engagement ring. It was stained in red. A dark pool of blood streamed through the floor boards, extending in every direction of the room.  Donny knelt by the blood, picked up your gun, and glanced up at Bridget. It wasn’t hers, she didn’t have any wounds or blood on her.  It had to be yours... His eyes widened at that realization. He shakily rose to his feet, and dropped your gun. ”Donny...Look...” Omar pointed at the red smears, like masses of rose petals strewn violently by the wind.  Donny nodded... You’d been dragged out. "They have to be here somewhere." Donny ran out of the room, and started frantically racing around the cinema, his mind blank, his heart racing, sweating from the heat and the fear. "Y/N?! ALDO! Y/N?! WHERE ARE YOU?!?!" But Donny and Omar were out of time. Omar grabbed onto Donny, "DONNY, LET'S GO, THEY'RE NOT HERE." "I HAVE TO FIND THEM." "THEY'RE NOT HERE. THEY DRAGGED HER OUT, THEY WOULDN’T STAY HERE. COME ON!" Donny looked intently at the young private. Omar was right... Omar managed to pull Donny outside. Donny was fuming as they stood outside the cinema. He was deciding whether or not to go back into the cinema. “Someone hurt her, Omar. Someone fucking killed Bridget, and hurt her, and probably Aldo too. What if they’re still in there?!”

Omar shook his head. he was a bit more clear headed than his sergeant at the moment, "They're not here. They must've been taken away. They had to, if they were going to interrogate them." "Why didn't they get us too?!" Omar shook his head, lost for words, and without an answer...."I don't know..." At that moment, Donny entertained the idea that maybe you were killed...maybe they took you out of that room, and didn’t have time to get Bridget out. 

He looked at the cinema. His eyes were bound to the  cinema as they once were to you. His voice was steady, and low. “I should’ve stayed in there...” Omar shook his head, “There’s still a chance-” “What? That they’re torturing her and they’ll kill her before we even figure out where she is? I know...” Omar knew Donny was right this time. Still he said, “I was gonna say alive...” Donny shook his head, “No...not after this.”  His eyes were set on the theater. If he lost you, he’d never feel alive again... They watched the cinema implode, fire burst through the shattering glass and splintering pillars devoured by hellfire. The cinema was destroyed, dragged down to depths of hell, and the nazis’ power went along with it.

Donny fell to his knees... "Where is she...Omar? Where is she?" Donny’s voice trembling with the tears and rage that came with the irony: He won the war but he lost you.  Omar put his hand on Donny’s shoulder...glanced up at the rooftop across the street, searching for an answer... He realized that was where Smitty should have been posted for something like this. He was gone... "Donny...Smitty's gone." Donny turned around, and saw the empty roof. He and Omar looked at each other... If Smitty was gone, then there really was a chance he was with you and Aldo, outside of the theater. Omar held out his hand, and pulled Donny up. They marveled at their work. The vengeful inferno that ended the war by their hands, and avenged millions. "For Y/n..." Donny picked a flower and tossed it into the fire, uncertain what to believe anymore. ********** Aldo and Smitty were put in the back of the same truck they came in. Aldo and Smitty eyed the blood stains on the ground, sloppily and carelessly wiped away, leaving red footprints on the ground. It looked like the inside of a slaughterhouse... It was no wonder the nazis didn't bother to cover your eyes and tie you like them... "I'm not leavin' without my man, Landa. You know the deal."

Landa sighed, "It appears you are correct, Lieutenant Raine." He looked back at the guards and barked out an order in German. Someone, presumably a medic, appeared in a few moment, and helped you up. You were handcuffed. And you were set between Aldo and Smitty. There words seemed distant, you could hardly hold your own, and they knew it. "What about the cinema..." Smitty shook  his head, misunderstanding the brokenness in your eyes. You didn't know about the deal. "No...they did it. Hitler, Goerring, everyone of them is gone. It's over, we won!" Aldo knew the real reason you were like that. "They're gone, kid...I'm sorry." "I should've been there with them." Aldo understood. He nodded slowly, "I'm sorry kid. For everything." You bit the inside of your lip, not wanting to let the nazis see you cry. The war may have been over, but that didn't change who they were to you, "Thats...that's war." War... War was what brought you together. It was what brought the world to its knees. It was what drove you away from your home. War made you a traitor. It made you a basterd. War gave you Donny. It was what taught you what love was. It brought you the basterds, and taught you what family was. War gave Hugo back to you, and showed you what redemption was. And war was what took it all away again. You were ready to die with Donny and Omar in that cinema. But you would never be ready to live without them...  Now all that was left of them was probably their dog tags... A part of you condemned Aldo and Smitty for making your salvation a part of their deal with the devil called Hans Landa. As soon as you crossed back in allied lines in the forest, you were all freed from handcuffs. Aldo and Smitty pulled your arms around their shoulders and kept you standing tall. Aldo eyed the bloody truck once more, then looked to you, “How you doin', kid?" You glanced at Landa, then to Aldo. Your voice was hoarse, and hopeless. "He's gonna get away with it, Aldo..." Aldo sighed, and nodded, " ‘Fraid so..." Aldo said something about you needing to be in the infirmiry with Hugo and Wicki, you weren't listening. The truth was, even thought the war was over, he wasn't done worrying about you. You and Donny were hell-bent on taking down the third reich and dying together. The war may have ended, but without Donny, yours was just beginning.  Now that the basterds were going home, Aldo was afraid for you. Hugo said something about moving to America once... He hoped you'd tag along, then there wouldn't be much to worry about. Hugo would never let a thing happen to you.  Smitty held on to you as Landa and Aldo carried out the deal. Landa held out his tiny blade, "I'm officially surrendering myself over to you, Lieutenant Raine. We're your prisoners." Aldo forced a smile, "How 'bout my knife?" Landa chuckled as he pulled out the machete and handed it over. "Thank you very much, colonel."  Aldo eyed the blade that was used against you. The blood still drying... Aldo took your arm, then said, "Utivich, cuff the colonel's arms behind his back." "Oh is that really necessary?" Aldo's ears burned with your words, 'He's gonna get away with it, Aldo...' He glanced at his knife, safely around his waist, then back at you. You were neither dead, or alive. You were victorious, but heart broken. He couldn't abide by that. Not one damn bit. Aldo smirked a little, and admitted something every basterd knew him to be guilty of: "I'm a slave to appearances." He shot Herman. He gave Landa's knife to Utivich. "Scalp Herman." Landa used Aldo's knife against you, he was using Landa's knife against his man. Utivich smirked as he took the knife, and gently set you down against a tree. "ARE YOU MAD? I MADE A DEAL WITH YOU FOR THAT MAN'S LIFE!" As he and Aldo went back and forth about the deal, you saw something in the distance. For a moment, you thought you were dead. You thought it was the spirits of those you left behind. Donny and Omar. Donny and Omar. Donny and Omar. Their names repeated in your mind. Their voices seemed to get closer and closer... Closer, and closer, and closer... Your eyes widened..."Donny and Omar?!" Smitty thought you'd snapped. He glanced up, expecting to see nothing. Instead, he saw everything his heart could ever desire. His two brothers running out of the woods, towards them, just as Aldo declared this final marking his masterpiece. His eyes followed Utivich's and he saw it too. Donny ran past them, directly to you. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, and kissed you. He was covered in soot, and smelled like ash and victory, covered in the blood of his enemy. You were covered in your own blood. He held you gently, his hand resting at the side of your face. "Are you ok? Tell me you're ok, Y/n. Tell me you're fine." His voice was desparate. A man faced with glory and fire. Love and death. You and oblivion, only hours before. You touched his hand and nodded, "I'm ok..." He took a breath, seemingly for the first time in a long time and he smiled. "Hugo woulda killed me if you weren't..." You giggled as much as your wound would allow, and he kissed you again... You whispered, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry, Donny, I-” He shook his head, “Sh, it’s ok, doll! Everything’s ok! Just...save your breath, I need you to get better, ok doll? I need you around.” He smiled as he looked at you, and you smiled back. You just couldn’t believe it. Seething through his pain, Landa taunted "Oh, private L/n and sergeant Donowitz, so it's true! How sweet...a traitor and the Bear Jew." Donny saw you clenching your side. He glanced at the smirk in Landa's eyes. He knew who hurt you. Landa went on, "Nantucket Island isn't too far from Boston, is it sergeant?" Donny shook his head. His voice was low. For a moment, you realized that if Landa went free, he'd only be a few miles form you and Donny... Donny knew that too. "No. No it isn't, colonel." He raised his gun, aimed it at Landa and smirked, "But hell is." 

One last bullet.

Then, the war really was over, for all of you. The general was definitely going to chew everyone out for it, but that was ok. It was more than ok. Donny laughed a little as he remarked, "Told you he'd recognize you, doll." Covered in ash, a steady heart, and loving eyes, Donny looked back at you. After that night, after everything you'd ever been through together, you were everything to him. The war may be over, the basterds may be splitting up, but he couldn't imagine his life without you, and you knew that. He slipped his hand around yours, just like he did in the theater. He was willing to die with you hours before. Now he was willing to live for you, and spend the rest of his life with you. Your eyes wandered east. The Germany you once knew was gone. There was nothing to go back to. You and Hugo knew that.  He made you swear once, that you were truly happy with Donny, and that you loved him. When you admitted it, Hugo smiled and said he'd move to America, only if you promised to visit him. You agreed. And so your eyes wandered west, beyond France, beyond the Atlatntic, was America. And on the coast was a place named Boston. A place you never knew. A place you'd never seen, not even in pictures. Only stories. What's more, they were Donny's stories. That was where your home was. Donny looked west, beyond the horizon, toward his home. He looked back at his life, at you. It all would have been nothing without you. He thought about the night before for a moment... "Lei è la sua fidanzata."

He didn't have a ring on him, but he had his heart. And his dog tag...

"Y/n... will you-" It was then that another truck passed by....recklessly... honking like there was no tomorrow. Hirschberg was driving, of course. Wicki and Hugo trying to get him to drive without getting them killed. Aldo turned around, "KILL THE ENGINE." "What?!" "KILL THE ENGINE." Hugo swiped the keys from Hirschberg, the engine shut off, and the three arrivals peered out the windows. Aldo shushed them, "KEEP YOUR FUCKEN MOUTHS SHUT!" He stood with Omar and Smitty as Hirschebrg, Wicki and Hugo wandered to them, watching. You and Donny laughed a little as he collected himself. He cleared his throat, and tried again, "Y/n..." He held out his dog tag. "Will you marry me?" You smiled, "Yes!." He kissed you, and held on to you, the only reason he was still alive. He put his dog tag around your neck, as the basterds cheered and joked with both of you. One last time. For the first time in a long time, everything was fine. You, Hugo, and Wicki may have been knocking on death's door hours earlier, but there was no answer. And that was fine. For the first time in years, you and Hugo had a place to call home, and a family. For the first tim in years, there was peace. And for the first time in his life, Donny was satisfied. He paid off his debt to Aldo the Apache. He avenged every name on his bat. He killed Hitler. He ended the war. He looked at you...his “fidanzata” and smiled. Now that there was a world worth living in, Donny had the girl he loved to share it all with.

[radfem-moira]

22, 41 for unusual asks

22. Do you believe in soulmates?

No.

41. Last movie you watched?

Inglourious Basterds. An old favourite of mine (I have a Thing for stories of revenge involving an oppressed person/group or a victim), but rewatching it with my parents over the Christmas break made me realize just how differently I view things now that I’m a radfem. Spoiler under the cut, also tw violence and long rant I guess

It seems like Tarantino really gets off on strangling women and it fucking shows. Yeah, yeah, you’ll say that two different female characters in two different films played by two different women (The Bride in Kill Bill (Uma Thurman) and Bridget von Hammersmarck in Inglorious Basterds (Diane Kruger)) getting drawn-out, lengthy scenes of strangulation might just be a coincidence, or maybe it’s just cause he thinks it looks like a cool death that’s kind of different than all the other super bloody deaths that his other characters undergo.

But watching Kruger’s character getting strangled to death like this was so weird. It was super long, super quiet, and the imagery was just, you know, a man on top of a woman, holding her down with his weight, strangling her for what seemed like forever. I know one of the pitfalls of death by strangulation in fiction is that they always make it seem like it only takes 30 seconds when it actually takes a while (otherwise the victim just passes out). But I don’t know, it was just so… unnecessary. I know people will say that Tarantino = unnecessarily violent deaths, but this was different. All the other characters get gunned down. Even the sole other female character gets shot to death, and even though OF COURSE she had to die while all dolled up, there was plenty of blood. But Kruger’s character got this weirdly romanticized plans of her getting quietly snuffed out by a Nazi lying on top of her. 

So weird in fact, that afterwards, I found myself remembering overhearing something about Thurman saying that Tarantino was abusive, so I went and looked it up. And lo and behold:

The guy who fake-strangled Kruger’s character? The hands around her neck? Those weren’t those of the actor of the character killing her, Christopher Waltz, who is so fucking good at his job that he literally won an Oscar for this specific role, so fucking good that you’d think he can act out strangling someone, it wasn’t Waltz pretending to strangle Kruger, it was Tarantino!!! I swear I fucking lost my mind when I saw this shit.

He literally choked a fucking woman on a set! Cut off her airway for the sake of “realism”, an excuse that no one on the Graham Norton Show, where he tried to explain himself, seemed to believe. From the snickering audience (you can hear them laugh at times that clearly weren’t prompted) to the other guests of the show (watch the guy sitting right next to him), everyone knows exactly what this guy had in mind when he did this. He even mentions his stunt guy - you had a stunt guy and you still insisted on doing this yourself? You said you were worried about safety and liability yet you choked someone with your own two fucking hands? And I’m supposed to believe you didn’t enjoy it? While you excitedly stammer through your shitty justifications? Really, Quentin????? “We actually got a really good thing! It was really good!” you say, almost vibrating on a stage, please fucking kill me. With a gun. Please. Spare me the hands. I want a bullet to the head.

As an aside I identify as James McAvoy during this interview:

Btw that last screenshot is just after Tarantino said “I was able to…” and then McAvoy cut him off with “… enjoy it?” in a really deadpan, no-nonsense way. Anyway I stan this man.

And like, I know Kruger says she doesn’t believe that Tarantino had malicious intentions. Thurman said the same thing about what Tarantino did to her. There’s a risk to acting, a lot of actors do their own stunts, women can do it too. Of course, I’m still going to be critical of this kind of stunt for obvious reasons. But you know, the argument is there.

But I can’t take that image out of my head. That image of this guy, who loves choking women, having the power to do just that on his own sets. In front of dozens of people. Who then broadcasts it to millions of viewers. It makes me sick. And then this interview. Plz keep men like him away from women 2k19.

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

Hi! If you feel like it could you maybe write the first kiss of Hans Landa and Bridget von Hammersmarck?

Ahh, my floating trash barge of a ship. I would be glad to Anon. Be on the lookout for it.

[plasmapoolplasma-blog]

Assorted Writings on Inglourious Basterds Vol. 4

This is the last entry in a four-part series covering Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. Read the first part here, the second part here, and the third part here.

18. Melanie Laurent I have a major thing for French actresses. It seems like there's a factory in the country that produces nothing but exquisitely beautiful, worldly women who are the most natural actresses you'll ever see. I will name just a few from recent history to prove my point (with the caveat that they have to speak French for the full effect): Juliette Binoche, Emmanuelle Beart, Julie Delpy, Ludivine Sagnier, Marion Cotillard, Virginie Ledoyen, Anne Consigny, Emmanuelle Devos, Isabelle Huppert, and Jeanne Balibar. Add Melanie Laurent to that list. As Shoshanna, she mixes just the right amount of vulnerability, fear, and soulfulness to gain our sympathies, but she also can be pretty damn scary and is clearly someone you do not want to fuck with. Her emotional release after Landa finally leaves the restaurant is the best single moment of acting in the entire film, and if she does not get an Oscar nomination I will be very upset. 19. Everyone Dies Well, almost everyone: by my count, only Utivich, Raine, and Landa live among the major characters, and I suppose Churchill, General Fenech, and a few of the Basterds presumably live since they don't die onscreen. But basically everyone else of any importance dies. This choice is rather curious given that the film seems so preoccupied with the power of cinema. It's a bit of a cliche to say that a film is great because you can imagine the characters' lives continuing beyond the end of the movie, but Tarantino challenges the audience to find these characters powerful even though they only live on the screen. This is at times an explicit statement in the film -- Shoshanna is most powerful after she dies and exists only as a projected image -- but it's an argument that can extend to every character in the film, as well. 20. The Movie Within a Movie Nation's Pride, the film starring Fredrick Zoller that premieres at Shoshanna's theater, is a pretty ridiculous-sounding movie. Professing to tell the true story of Zoller's heroism during the war, it's really just an opportunity for the Nazis to get their rocks off and feel some pride in seeing a German kill a bunch of enemies. Oh, and the poster suggests that they threw in a love story for good measure. Something for everyone, and all that. The audience eats it up, of course; especially Hitler, who guffaws after every Allied death. We only see parts of the big battle scene, but it looks like most Nazi propaganda films: technically impressive, but also morally repugnant. Nation's Pride clearly revels in its violence -- every death is an aesthetic event devoid of regard for the lives lost. The enemy only exists to be shot in the most impressive way possible. If that description sounds familiar, it's because it's almost exactly the same as the Crazy 88s fight in Kill Bill. In that scene, Tarantino sets up a revolving door of Kato-masked Japanese for Uma Thurman to dispatch with her Hanzo blade. The gravity of the situation is felt in only one instance, when The Bride battles Go-Go, and that's only really notable because Go-Go is a particularly awesome creation, a cute girl in a schoolgirl outfit whose weapon of choice is some kind of mace-like spiked ball contraption. The entire scene is one long opportunity to see how many ways someone can be killed with a sword, and Nation's Pride even mimics some of its deaths (in particular, one where someone is killed and then falls into a fountain/pool). The entire thing is awesome, and I laugh at almost every death. I'm not sure Tarantino is flat-out comparing the Kill Bill audience to Nazis, but the parallels should at least be unsettling. The context of Nation's Pride is much different from that of Tarantino's film -- it depicts "real" events, for one thing -- yet it's difficult to escape the fact that both parties are laughing at violence lacking any of the real-world implications of death. I haven't watched Kill Bill since seeing Inglourious Basterds, so I can't say if my viewing experience has been changed forever, but I know I'll pay close attention to my reaction the next time I do. Regardless, I don't expect to suddenly find the Crazy 88s scene morally repugnant. Tarantino understands the thrill of watching violence and doesn't seek to deny it. Instead, he expects his viewers to enjoy the violence and question that enjoyment simultaneously. It's a sign of great respect and a vaguely sadistic challenge. 21. Shoshanna and Zoller Shoshanna and Zoller have a really bizarre relationship throughout the movie. She seems to be using him at all times, yet after shooting him she walks over to his body to see if he's okay (which turns out to be a mistake, of course, because he shoots her). None of this really makes sense: she has no interest in him at any point during the film, and while he is somewhat charming (although also the kind of tool who uses his military reputation as evidence that he is totally spongeworthy), he just tried to force himself on her in the projection booth. So why the hell would Shoshanna care about him at all, especially since she loves Marcel the Projectionist? The answer, I think, lies more in a quirk of Tarantino than in anything specific to the characters. The Shoshanna/Zoller romance is entirely superficial, but it plays on the classic romantic comedy plot of the charming young man breaking down the defenses of a tough woman. Everyone knows Tarantino loves basically every kind of movie, so it's likely that he enjoys old romantic comedies and wanted to pay some level of respect to the genre, even if in a single moment. And it's a wonderful moment, even if it makes no sense. But seriously, Zoller is a total dick with a massive sense of entitlement, and I hope no one sympathizes with him or thinks of him and Shoshanna as some kind of doomed lovers. Because they're only that in a superficial sense, and Tarantino sometimes just happens to believe in superficiality more than in what lies beneath. 22. British People

No British characters show up until the beginning of the fourth chapter in the film, but their first scene is potentially the most British scene in the history of cinema and the most blatant parody in the entire film. General Ed Fenech and Winston Churchill brief Lieutenant Archie Hicox on the particulars of Operation Kino, and each actor plays a caricature of a British person: Mike Myers basically does the Austin Powers voice for Fenech, Rod Taylor does the world's greatest Churchill impression, and Michael Fassbender seems to have walked off the set of a production of the Archers. The dialogue is similarly goofy -- everyone says things like "be a good chap" and "that a boy" and overpronounces the last syllable in "cinema." It's a ridiculous scene and I laughed the whole time. Fenech and Churchill never show up again, but Hicox is one of the main players in the long tavern scene. In the hands of a lesser actor, Hicox would remain a caricature, but Fassbender, like Diane Kruger with Bridget von Hammersmarck, goes beyond the goofy exterior and infuses Hicox with a degree of complexity. It's an absolutely masterful performance. But it's important to note that Hicox is quite clearly a caricature when he enters the film. This makes him quite different from von Hammersmarck, whose first appearance comes after we learn that she's a spy -- we always know that her interactions with the Germans in the tavern are just one aspect of her character. Fassbender turns the caricature into something more complex, which is indicative of a common Tarantino philosophy: the most artificial aspect becomes a useful avenue to finding something more complete. 23. The Moral of the Story

Many complaints about Inglourious Basterds focus on its unwillingness to make a coherent statement about the violence inflicted by the film's avenging Jews. For a particularly well-articulated example, check out this quote from an excellent post on the film at Jog -- The Blog:

Tarantino's depictions of violence are especially confused, playing graphic Nazi scalpin' for gross-out comedy then drawing back just minutes later to nag at the horror of a man being beaten to death. The screenwriter assures us that yes, all the characters are somehow awful, yet there's a glee applied inconsistently to their actions that suggests a filmmaker not entirely ready to dismiss the notion of just having a lot of silly fun, but also somehow aware that there's a point to be made by means other than leering at squibs and make-up effects.

This is a mostly accurate description of the depiction of violence in the film, with the exception that both audiences I've seen the movie with didn't find any of the scalping shots funny in the least. Regardless, I majorly disagree with the idea that this confusion is a bad thing. Tarantino is enough of a movie fan to realize that violence is an exciting thing to watch, particularly when it's done in inventive ways. Scalping is gross, but it also provides the viewer with a visceral kick. And while I don't agree with the particulars of exactly which violent moments are or aren't played for comedy, I also don't think it's out of line to say that some are acceptable and some go to far. The larger question here, though, is about the validity of contradiction in a work of art. Many viewers prefer a coherent statement about a film's subject, and that's certainly fine -- I like Michael Haneke, but a Michael Haneke movie wouldn't be a Michael Haneke movie if he weren't horribly didactic throughout. On the other hand, it's also acceptable for Terence Malick to make The New World, a film that approaches the relationship of humanity to the natural world with a story that can be read in many different ways -- it's effectively raising questions instead of answering them. It strikes me that Inglourious Basterds is raising questions about violence rather than answering them, but for some reason this is being met with hostility or being explained away by many of the film's biggest fans. What sets this movie apart from one like The New World (which is incidentally one of the beautiful movies I've ever seen) is that Tarantino approaches his material with the personality of an excited fan rather than that of a serious artist. One gets the sensation that he's not taking everything entirely seriously, if only because he's more willing than most to soak in the more immediate pleasures of his movies. But this is a rather goofy opinion; no matter which approach Tarantino takes, the end result is still a thought-provoking film that's also a whole lot of fun to watch. That last part shouldn't be sold short. Because if Tarantino's movies do have a moral, it's that passion, enthusiasm, and love are pretty damn effective starting points for anything worthwhile. Above all, his work is characterized by joy. If that sounds terribly hokey and old-fashioned, then it's only because his films plug into the same pleasure centers that made us love movies in the first place.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

To Omar (Omar Ulmer x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @cass-danvers A/N: YALL THIS ONE HAS SOME HEAVY HAMILTON REFERENCES (No spoilers, just lyrics )

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :) ____ Omar was a young man, just recruited with a handful of other eager, wide-eyed boys into an elite team. One that would soon come to be known as The Basterds. This was their last night stationed in a base, somewhere in England. Young, and dreaming of glory, they all sat around, living the last night where they were guaranteed life. They each got their last handfuls of mail, before having to go under the radar and off the grid for quite some time... For some of them, perhaps for the rest of what remained of their lives. Omar's new lieutenant held out a single envelope. 'To Omar'

He recognized your handwriting instantly, and he breathed shakily, his heart sinking. He reached for the letter, and politely thanked Aldo. Omar looked at those two words: To Omar...

But he never read the rest. He stuffed the envelope away into a pocket inside his jacket... Omar knew there was greatness in his path, but if he read what you'd written, he'd never stop thinking of the moment he said goodbye to you. ***TWO YEARS LATER The basterds knew he never worked up the courage to read what you'd last wanted him to know. Just as none of the basterds were allowed to mess around with Donny's bat, none of them were allowed to touch the letter. But, their time together was coming to an end... And, seeing the inherent danger that was part of Operation Kino, Aldo sat Omar down. "I was younger than you are now, when I was given my first command..." It wasn't often that any of the basterds saw Aldo being so bleak... Blunt, yes. Of course. All the time, unfortunately. But bleak? It startled Omar a little... He looked at Aldo, at the history in that man's eyes. Aldo looked down, and Omar could see the heaviness in the memories of that first command. He'd witnessed their deaths firsthand in an endless massacre... "You know, son...Took me time to realize that each of 'em boys I lost that first day had someone waitin' on 'em to get back home. A mama, a pop, kid brother that might have to take his place, a sister workin' away in a factory instead of goin' to school. Each of 'em boys had someone they loved, someone waiting. Just like you. Y/n's waitin' on you to come on back home." "Come on, Aldo. Not now..." "Andy's mother didn't get to say goodbye. Simon had a wife and kids. Michael never got to marry." Omar turned away, he didn't want to listen. "We don't get to decide which one of us lives, dies. We don't even get to decide which one of us tells each other's stories." Aldo sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't making the same mistakes again. he knew who each of the basterds was. There was no turning back now. The war either ended with Kino, or not at all. But, seeing as some of them may not be so lucky to tell the stories, he looked at Omar, "You should read that letter now, Omar." Omar tried to play dumb....but he was a terrible liar, "What letter?" "Y/n's letter." Aldo got up, and walked out. Omar sighed, he pulled the letter out. To Omar. He shook his head. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear reading your 'I love you,' now. Not after all this time. Not when he was so close to hearing it again. He knew the basterds could win the war. There was greatness in each and every soldier he fought side by side with, but this was it. Operation Kino would go down in the books, and history had its eyes on each and every single one of them.

The thoughts lingered on, until the next night, as the basterds waited in an empty building, while Wicki, Hugo, and Lt. Hicox met with a contact in a tavern across the street. La Louisiane just so happened to be in a basement. As it would turn out, Aldo was right. Basements were a terrible place for a rendezvous. Omar, who was just about to read your letter (for real, this time) had no choice. He dropped it, when he heard the first gun shot. As the basterds ran out to see what basterds and parts of Kino they could save, Aldo spotted the letter on the ground. He saw a few words as he hastily tried to shove the letter back into the envelope as he ran out. He slowed down for a second, then realized he needed to make sure Omar made it home. His eyes scanned the street, as Omar kicked down the door. Aldo ran toward him, "WAIT." He pushed Omar back, and took his place, being the first to head down to the tavern as they heard more gunfire, and a terrified man scream, "YOU OUTSIDE, WHO ARE YOU?! BRITISH? AMERICAN? WHAT!" Aldo looked back at his boys, with a shot of relief in his eyes for  a moment, thinking there was a chance their boys were still alive, though his hand gripped the envelope tightly, as he shouted down, "WE'RE AMERICAN. WHAT ARE YOU?" *****

Later that night, as the basterds gathered around a veterinarian's clinic, Aldo quietly slipped the letter into Omar's hands. You had married him, just a year before he left... and he'd been gone for two years now. And now, after two years, he regretted not reading the letter when he first got it. When you decided to write that last letter to him, you'd known for some time... You weren't sorry, but you knew he'd keep on fighting. And still, you knew he deserved a chance to meet his baby. Still, you weren’t scared. You knew who you married. You'd written that last  line with a slight smile: "As long as you come home some day, at the end of the war, just to meet your son...that would be enough." Omar shut his eyes. He stopped hearing Wicki, Hugo, and Archie being operated on by a veterinarian with no morphine. He stopped hearing von Hammersmarck's explanations. He could only see you, in your little apartment in Jersey. He could see you standing by the window, on that last cool summer evening you spent together. You were smiling at him, almost laughing, as a breeze came through a cracked window, swaying the curtains gently. "Well. I speak the most I-talian so...I'll be your escort. Donowitz speaks second most, so he'll be your I-talian cameraman. Omar third most so he'll be Donny's assistant." Omar's eyes shot open, hearing the plans now, instead of his distant memories.  "I don't speak Italian!" "Like I said, third best. Just keep your fuckin' mouth shut!" As the night went on, and the plans were rearranged, Omar was sitting alone in a separate room. His mind bounced endlessly between the prospects of ending the war, and the words in your letter. For two years...two years he carried that letter, and never knew he had a baby waiting along with you. Now that you were so close to him, there was a chance he'd never get to you. Aldo knew what was going on. "Ya know...I saw sum' that letter. We can switch you out. Hirschberg or Smitty. Both of 'em boys got enough grit. Hell, they made it this far." "Smitty's got two kids who know him. Hirschberg is a kid."

Aldo nodded slowly as he sat by him.  He glanced up, "Donny!" Donny stopped by the doorway in passing, chewing on some stale bread he found lying around.  "Yeah?" "Come here. We got a slight change of plans." It was crazy, and it was almost dead certain it wouldn't work...but Aldo wanted to give them even a possibility to make it out. "Listen up, boys. This ain't no game..." So, later on, when Bridget von Hammersmarck arranged for the boys to be fitted in suits for the premier, Omar and Donny were alone for a few minutes, just before 'show time'.

"Y'know, kid. Aldo told me why we changed plans." Omar smiled a little, though his heart was heavier now, more than ever, "Of course he did. Aldo can't keep a secret." Donny nodded, knowing that to be true enough. Still, he sighed, "I just wanted to tell you, I respect the hell out of you, and there's nobody else I'd rather be doin' this mission with."

"Thanks, pal." "But..." Donny looked at his best friend, "Nothin's ever gone according to plan with us. Someone always slips up. Sometimes Hirschberg actually slips... That time that Wicki forget the ammunition, or when Hugo-" "I get it, I get it," Omar laughed, and Donny smiled a little, until he said what was on his mind. "It's a goddamn miracle any of us are still here." "Ain't that the truth." "So, if I fall behind, I stay behind. You get the hell out of there." "Donny, I can't do that." "Don't make an orphan of your kid." Donny was dead serious. "What about-" Donny already knew what Omar was going to say. He chuckled a little, "Shit, me 'n Sarah been engaged so long, I'd hope she'd be ready to move on by now," He smiled a little, though Omar knew Donny loved his girl, he still meant every word. "Donny, I can't leave you behind." "That's an order, private." "Don't do that." "Don't disobey a direct order, then." They looked at each other, quietly, not knowing what more to say. Donny reached his hand out. Omar sighed, and shook Donny's hand, "One last time?" "One last time," Donny smirked, looking in a mirror, slicking back his hair, then heading out the door.

*** And of course, things did not go as planned, as per usual. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Aldo disappeared, along with Bridget von Hammersmarck. To make matters worse...a wooden beam fell over Omar.

He shut his eyes, feeling the weight of the world fall over him. He just took down the nazi regime, but he was sure he'd never get to see you again. Smoke filled his lungs, and covered his eyes. He could almost hear you, a whisper among the crackles of the fire. He smiled... But he just couldn't seem to die. He saw you again, on that last cool summer night, just before he left. He kissed you, 'I'll be back before you know I'm gone...' And it wasn't like him to lie to you. So you never questioned that last promise, no matter how much time had passed. He knew that, so when he heard Donny shout over the roaring fire, "FUCK A DUCK," he opened his eyes. Donny was towering over him, "THIS WASN'T PART OF THE DEAL, OMAR." Donny was clearly hurt, but using every last ounce of his strength to push the beam off of Omar. "WE GOT THIRTY SECONDS, MOVE, MOVE MOVE." The two basterds just jumped out of the cinema, moments before the explosions. Donny chuckled, catching his breath, and pressing his arms around his hurt knee, "Just like in the movies, huh?" "Yeah..." Omar smiled, out of breath, realizing he was getting that happy ending,  "Just like in the movies..." A jeep stopped just across the street, and Hirschberg waved out the windo, "LET'S GO. GENERAL MADE A DEAL WITH ALDO AND LANDA." The boys looked at each other, and Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "WE GOTTA GO." Wicki poked his head out of the back of the jeep, along with Hicox and Hugo, "C'mon, boys. I got my mother waitin' for me." Hicox chuckled, "Yes, if it's all fine with you boys, I'd like to be home in time for my daughter's bed time story. She reads to me, you know." Hugo only smiled. He had somebody waiting for him too. They helped Donny and Omar up, and for the first time in years, each of the basterds took a breath. They looked around, knowing how lucky they were to be alive right now. ******** Omar walked down the stage after getting his medal of honor. He was a little slow, having a broken rib or two, but that didn't matter. You knocked the breath out of him. You'd always taken his breath away. He stopped when he saw you. You ran to him. He could barely whisper your name, though you could see the years of love that were missed in his eyes, "Y/n..." You threw your arms around him, effectively taking his taking his breath away again, though he didn't mind. He glanced back at Aldo, who was already being swarmed by a group of reporters, waiting for him to tell the basterds' story, or at least the story of how he got his scar. Aldo smiled with pride, nodding at his boys, watching them all go their separate ways. Yes, they'd lost some basterds along the way... Aldo was right. No one got to choose who lived, who died, who told their stories. (But knowing Donny, he'd tell some stories alright, and never shut up about it.) But now, Omar looked at what was ahead of him. He saw a little boy, about two years old, lingering shyly behind you. You picked him up, and Omar saw his son's face for the first time. "His name's Philip." Omar threw his arms around both of you, never wanting to let go. He'd seen the world, remembered every soldier who fought by his side, held on to that letter for years, and lived far more than he'd ever imagined ....But this? He smiled, holding you and your son, knowing he'd never have to leave you behind again. He looked at you, and Philip... That was enough for a lifetime. He fought in the war, but somehow, this was what he was proudest of. He'd always known he'd see you again, it would only be a matter of time.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

All That Love Is (DonnyxFem!Reader)

Requested by @svonschroeder​

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​ 

Let me know if you wanna be added to the basterds or OUATIH taglist! :)

You were leaning over Hugo, covered in his blood. His breathing had slowed, his heart rate was back to normal. His fever went on, and beads of sweat rolled down his face, as he shivered.

You were holding his hand, the only sense of warmth and humanity Hugo'd known in his life.

Wicki was doing fine, he'd been  sedated, and was sleeping in a cot a few feet away.

Hugo was harder to settle down.

Besides, he wanted to know what the fuck put him in that place anyway, so you both listened in on Aldo and Donny interrogating Bridget in the next room.

You knew that whole disaster in La Louisiane had gotten Donny riled up...but him seeing you like that with Hugo made it worse somehow.

Hugo smiled up at you softly...which was a bit unsettling, despite all the other odd signs of what was almost warmth he'd shown you before. You shook your head, "Mein Gott, du bist verdammt wahnsinnig, Hugo."

"God, you're fucken delirious, Hugo."

His voice was raspy, and low, his eyes tired, and his skin pale, but he was lively, which was unusual...and concerning, because this was Hugo Stiglitz. "Geh und sieh nach, Donny." "Go see Donny."

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, and gestured to Hugo's bloody, freshly stitched up bullet wounds. "Einer von euch braucht mich jetzt ein bisschen mehr als der andere." "One of you needs me a little more now than the other."

Hugo laughed a little, though it hurt his ribs, and he wrapped his free arm around them. "Du wärest überrascht." "You'd be surprised."

You raised your eyebrows,"What?"

Hugo sighed, "That boy talks about you all the time."

You sighed and looked down,"Well that's emabarrassing..."

Hugo shook his head...looking at you softly, like he'd never looked at anyone else. But that was all. He knew his place. He knew your place, and he knew it was by Donny, not him.

So he left well enough alone...

Besides, he'd heard the english expression: If you love someone, let them go...

And he'd much rather see you happy with Donny then perhaps be unhappy with Hugo in five years...

So he smiled, though even that hurt on some level or other, he ignored it. "Everyone understands."

You shook your head, and whispered, "Get some rest, Hugo."

"Go to him."

Before you responded, you both heard Donny shout in the other room, "FUCK. A. DUCK."

You looked to each other and smirked a little, "I think I'll wait here for a while."

Hugo nodded slowly. He looked away from you...you cared for him like no one else ever had, and that was what hurt him: Because after all that, he couldn't have your love.

That belonged to someone else, and he respected that.

And yet, it hurt.

So he looked away, his eyes lingering on the blank, cracked, ceiling until he fell asleep...

By then, the shouting had died down. Bridget was finally being treated for the bullet...but you stayed with Hugo a while longer.

You owed that much to him...your heart was aching...

He took that bullet for you.

He took it so you could see Donny one last time.

Donny and Aldo were out on the door step, smoking. Aldo listened in exasperation as Donny ranted about the boys getting hurt, and Frau von Hammersmarck's trustworthiness (or lack thereof)...

Aldo looked back at Donny, squinting little, "Well that ain't what's got you wild like a raccoon in a swamp,  is it."

Donny turned to Aldo, "What?"

He sighed, "That aint what's botherin' you, is it, son." Aldo pointed inside, down the hall, where he could see the distant outline of you sitting by Hugo, holding his hand. "It's that."

Donny scowled...

"Y/n's a nurse. Basically second nature to be so kind to a man in Hugo's shape." Donny muttered something under his breath, though it came out to sound more like a vicious growl. Aldo sighed, "You aint remember how she treated you the time you got stabbed, right about there?" He pointed to Donny's chest, "Or the time Smitty done snapped his wrist? Or when Andy's ankle twisted? You don't remember her taking care of us, every single time? Cause you damn well better be rememberin' that."

"Guess I'm bein' stupid, huh Liuetenant." Donny huffed as he crossed his arms.

"Now, I didn't say that, son. Alls I'm sayin’ is be a little more patient." Aldo smiled a little, knowing Donny loved you....he just had a bit of a hard time accepting that you were so attentive to Hugo specifically.

"Hugo loves Y/n."

"Yeah but Y/n loves you. So you ain't got nothin'  to worry 'bout, do ya?"

"I...."

Aldo sat down on the curb, "You love Y/n, dontcha?"

"Course I do."

"Means you trust her." Aldo inhaled some snuff, and looked to Donny. Aldo's eyes were red from the smoke, the long night, and the thought of  a possibility of losing basterds. "That's all that love is."

"Yeah..."

"There. Then quit your worryin'."

Donny couldn't....it wasn't so easy. He was just a jealous basterd.

You knew that.

And you braced yourself for an outburst when you left Hugo and Wicki's side.

Still, it was rare for Donny to actually react. You knew it was a trying day for everyone, and it was bound to happen.

So you passed Aldo in the hall, and he gave you an encouraging nod.

You made it to the porch, and found Donny sitting on the steps, his back to you.

He heard your footsteps, but chose not to turn around. You took a breath, then said "I know you're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Yeah you are." You rested your fingertips on his shoulders.

His breathing was quick, huffing, and trying to hold back.

But he couldn't. Not anymore.

He looked back at you. "I WANT YOU TO TELL ME EVERYTHING. TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED. TELL ME WHAT’S WITH YOU AND HUGO. TALK TO ME."

You'd gone over it a million times.

There was nothing between you and Hugo.

You were tired too.

You'd been in the middle of that gun fight. You watched Hugo take a bullet that was meant for you. You watched Archie die. You watched Operation Kino, and the world flip upside down, not even two hours before. This was not helping.

"You wanna talk?  So let's talk!" You were done being patient with him.

Sometimes you just had to play it his way.

"I know he had a thing for you. I know he does!"

"Hugo was dying! What do you expect from me? Let him?!"

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO-" You got in Donny's face, "AND HE DIDN'T HAVE TO TAKE THAT BULLET FOR US." For a moment, Donny didn't understand. But then he saw the memories playing through your eyes like a burning reel of film, and he stumbled on his words through stubborn, gritted teeth... "You didn't have to fucking-"

"DIDN'T HAVE TO WHAT?!"

"HOLD HIM LIKE THAT."

"LIKE WHAT?!"

"YOU KNOW GODDAMN WELL LIKE WHAT."

"NO. I DON'T. I JUST KNOW YOU'RE JUST BEING SELFISH AND JEALOUS AGAIN DONNY. YOU DON'T TRUST ME." You stared into his raging, wild eyes, like those of a madman. You sighed, "And maybe....Maybe you shouldn't. Not if things are like this." You crossed your arms, and turned away.

"Y/n..."

You didn't respond.

"Y/n." Donny managed to maneuver his way and stand in front of you.

You'd never seen him like that...

You'd never seen so much rage, and so much loss at once...

For the first time ever, he couldn't tell what was in your head... Normally he could read you like a book. Normally it was as clear as a cloud on a bright blue day.

But he couldn't tell...

He couldn't see past the hazy (eye color) mist...

You clenched your jaw, and stared at him intensely, wordlessly, with emotions he couldn't  decipher.

He was scared.

Donny was convinced he'd single-handedly and foolishly lost you...

For a moment...he was truly terrified.

The only other time he was that scared was just a few hours ago, when he thought he'd lost you in the bar. He was across the street, and heard the sound of machine guns, pistols, shot guns, and screams... Then nothing... His heart stopped. And there was nothing he could do until after Aldo’s negotiations with Wilhelm, after the threat of a Mexican stand-off. At that point, he only knew Bridget was alive...and for a few minutes, he thought he lost you... He swore to himself he’d never lose you again, but there he was, on the brink of losing you pointlessly. He was lost...

In the middle of everything, you raised your finger...and you tapped him on the nose.

 You booped Donny Donowitz. He was confused for a moment... The misty storm in your eyes gave way to a warm string of light, a light laugh, and a silly smile that could save a man's life.

His heart seemed to beat again, and he practically melted for you, for reasons he couldn't explain, and never would be able to.

Something so soft, so meaningless to anyone else meant the entire world, the seas, and the night sky to him.

He held you in his arms at that moment, never wanting to let go.

And you wrapped your arms around him, though you were tiny compared to him. He was the Bear Jew after all...

But to you, he was more than that, and you told him so...

"You're just a teddy bear, and you know it."

He sighed through a smile, "Don't you dare, kid."

You smiled deviously as you looked up to him, "You're my teddy bear, and you know that. There's no one else." You put your hand against his cheek, and murmured, lost in the love in his eyes, "There never will be."

He picked you up, and swung you around, leaning his forehead against yours as he whispered, "I'm sorry..."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and looked at him.

It had been a rouch night, but there'd been worse, and from the looks of it, there would be more.

With the continuation of Operation Kino, and the end of the night in La Louisiane, many things were uncertain...

But there were a few things you knew to be true:

You loved him, with all your heart.

And Sergeant Donny Donowitz loved you.

No war, no operation, no jealousy would ever take that from either of you again.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Best Revenge (2/2) (DonnyxFem!Reader)

Requested by @sodapop182​

@owba-chan​ @inglourious-imagines​ @war-obsessed​ 

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these! :)

The theater was burning down around you. Donny and Omar were rightfully unloading each and every round, ending the war with their bare hands. The three of you were. You spotted dynamite under Hitler's seat. It wasn't yours, Donny's, or Omar's.

You were the only one that realized Aldo and Bridget never made it back.

So...where did the dynamite come from?

You caught sight of Landa across the theater earlier when he pulled Bridget away...

You weren’t sure if he recognized you or not. Makeup and clothes borrowed from Bridget made you look like the polar opposite of what Hans Landa knew you as...

You never wanted anything more in your life. You wanted to kill Landa right then and there, but Donny pulled you back with a simple glance, and a forced smile that seemed to say, "Not now. Not here."

Not even an hour later, there was one more thing you were sure of.

One thing you wanted even more than to kill Hans Landa....

"Donny, Omar, drop the dynamite lets go."

Donny pulled his arm away from your hand as he fired another round into Hitler's already disintegrated face.

Lately you'd been the one he trusted most out of the basterds. He listened to you. He volunteered for the theater because you did.

And in this moment, suffocated by the blazing heat and the inglourious honor of being a basterd, he was sure of one thing.

He loved you...

As he shot Hitler's face clean off, he almost forgot himself...

"DONNY."

He stopped firing. "Y/n...?" He saw you taking the dynamite off of your leg and tossing it over the opera box.

Omar stared at you, his mouth open in shock.

You rested your hand on Donny's shoulder and you asked "This is about revenge, isn't it?"

Donny looked down at you, and smiled a little, "Sounds familiar, kid..."

You rested your hand on his cheek, and spoke just loud enough for him to hear, "Don't you wanna see what the world is like without them? That's the best kinda revenge, isn't it?"

Donny smiled as he looked down at  you. He put his hand on your cheek, lowered his gun, and kissed you.

Omar still stared with a wide mouth and eyes. He knew some of the older basterds made jokes and bets about you and Donny, but he thought you hated each other... It never quite clicked in his mind... Not until that moment, when he saw Donny pulling up his pant leg, and tearing off his dynamite. "Omar, change of plans, kid. Lets go."

Omar sighed, raised an eyebrow and nodded with a sigh. Maybe... Maybe he should have seen it coming sooner.

Still, he smiled a little. "Ok, sarge."

Meanwhile Aldo and Smitty were facing Hans Landa.

"And when you purchase friends like Bridget von Hammersmarck, you get what you pay for."

Landa noted the concerned look in Aldo's eyes and smirked, "Speaking of which, you should know that by now. You took a deserter under your wing, Aldo."

Aldo frowned and Smitty turned to him, shocked that Landa could know such a thing...

Landa chuckled "Even in our eyes, that's an abomination lieutenant."

He realized Aldo and Smitty glancing at the doors and windows as if expecting a rescue. "Perhaps she deserted again. What more could you expect from a coward like that?"

Smitty narrowed his eyes and muttered in contempt, "What do you  fucking know..."

Landa leaned over the desk, "How is it that she came to be a deserter? Surely she's a damn good basterd. What made her run away in the beginning, I wonder?"

He eyes the boys and smiled pleased with himself, "You don't even know. Do you?"

All Smitty and Aldo knew was rumors. And all they had were suspicioms based on what he knew of you after meeting you. Landa was right you were a damn good basterd. And a better friend.

"There was a soldier, once. Valuable to the allies. A particularly good thief. The harpy. Captured. Caged like those fabled bird beasts. Put in a camp with the rest of the filfth."  he sighed, "But... No one could break her. No interrogators succeded, no torture got anything out of her...well screams and blood, but nothing usefull to us. So, they sent for me."

Smitty shook his head in disbelief. His heart broke for you... "You lie..."

Landa shook his head chuckling "No, it's true!   Your darling little y/n was-"

Aldo slammed his foot against the table. "Private L/n is  a good goddamn soldier, a fucking basterd. Respect that woman or I'll-"

Landa shook his head, tutted, and waved his hands "Now Aldo, I mean no disrespect. In fact, I'm rather  impressed a deserter could have weasled her way into your team. I'm impressed she escaped my hands..." He held his gloved hands up.

Aldo narrowed his eyes "What the hell you mean, Landa..."

"I took over the SS investigation on the Harpy... Naturally she is a basterd at heart, always has been apparently. But, I'll spare you the sentiment. One day, my hand slipped. It was particularly brutal, even for me. I was almost frightened I'd killed her before getting any information from her. Naturally my superiors would have sent me along with her if I had..."

"Why do you care so much anyway? She's smart, you should've figured she'd get out of it." Smitty glared at Landa.

Landa became serious in the blink of an eye. "I branded her."

Aldo narrowed his eyes "What the fuck are you talking about."

"No different than any other prisoner of war. But I did it. I gave her the numbers on her arm." He saw the confusuon on their faces and smiled "Ahhhh... She never even let you see? Shame... Would've cleared much of her blame... Although even  if she escaped me, she never went back to her company. That woman is still a deserter. Frankly, Aldo, it's beyond me how anyone could have escaped the camp in her state. Such blood... Still impressive. And yet..." His eye twitched for a moment. The madness of a mass murderer flashed in his eyes,  "I could never rest until I found her. Just to make sure she was dead this time."

Aldo and Smitty stared at him.

"I shall have to thank you Aldo. Your boys are getting rid of her for me...the one that got away."

"Son of a bitch!"

Landa sighed "As far as your paisanos go, sergeant Donowitz and Private Omar-"

Aldo understood Landa recognized you but he asked "You know our names?"

As far as their paisanos were... They were outside of the incinerated theater, finding that Smitty wasn't in his post. And neither was Hirschberg...

They never found signs of Aldo or Bridget in the theater.

You searched everywhere you could think of...

And it paid off.

Aldo may have been a slave to appearances, but you were a slave to your past. And you would not rest until you were freed, regardless of whether you had already ended the war.

You were far enough where you could hear Aldo and Landa going back and forth.

You gathered what had happpened. You pieced it together.

They'd made a deal with the general, and Landa was to go free...

You watched as Aldo pulled his knife out.

Landa was going  free...

It wasn't something you could abide by... As Smitty would say, 'not one damn bit, sir.'

You pulled out your pistol. Omar pulled you back "He made a deal with the brass. You heard that."

You looked Omar in the eyes, and shook your head, your gun still aimed. "This shot was not meant for you."

Donny saw the same fury in your eyes as he did a year ago.

Nothing was going to stop you.

He pulled Omar away.

He smiled at you, knowingly and devilishly. "This is the best revenge, kid. A world without nazis."

You smiled a little then turned. You walked away from him.

In a few days, you'd be going home together, hand in hand. That was half of how you wanted things to end. There was only one more thing you needed.

"Y/n? Boys?! You're alive you goddamn basterds!"  Aldo couldn't stop smiling as you all appraoched. You all looked down at Landa.

Aldo smirked as he put his knife in your hand. "Go ahead kid."

You crouched down by Landa.

"Ah... Private L/n. I see you've moved up in the world."

You looked at him, unmoved by the excitement of the war's end. "Shut up or your tongue is next."

"Yes...I see..."

You smirked, "You do? How bout your eyes?" You rested the blade against his cheekbone, just beneath his eye."

Landa gulped nervously "Now, now private L/N...I ...I spared your life! I-"

You rolled up your sleeves and he saw the numbers he marked, and bragged about.

He felt the cool blade against his forhead and he pleaded "I MADE A DEAL WITH YOUR LIEUTENANT AND YOUR GENERAL."

"But you didn't make a deal with me." You carved a swastika onto Landa's forehead as he writhed and screamed.

You looked back as Aldo smiled at the masterpiece.

He'd taught you well...

"That right, Aldo? He make a deal with you?"

He and Smitty crouched by you and looked down at Landa.

"That's right, soldier. He lives, he gets credit for killing Hitler,  and lives on pertty ol' Nantucket Island." He glanced back and saw Donny's lovestruck eyes set on you. "That's a little close to Boston, aint it son?"

Donny nodded, "Sure is, boss."

Aldo smirked as you all heard a jeep coming by.

Hijacked by Hirschberg, who also broke Hugo and Wicki out of an infirmiry. Omar looked back at Landa, and grinned, "Hearse has arrived."

Aldo cleared his throat, "Ya know, kid... You were unawares of the terms and conditions of this deal... You could say, you were disoriented, coming from an explosion and all. And you just so happened to have stumbled upon your lieutnant and fellow soldier chained up in the hands of  two nazis. Wouldn't be unexpected of you to have been a little..." He smirked as he glanced at Landa, "Trigger happy."

He and Smitty steped back and stoood with Omar and Donny and piled into the  jeep with the others.

"So this is where it ends, fraulein? You disobeying orders from your general? Not surprising from a deserter."

"Stand up you dirty animal." You pulled him up and slammed him against a tree. "This gun has one bullet. And one only." You had used up the rest of your ammunitions a few hours earlier during the peak of Operation Kino. You'd been saving this bullet for years. His name was literally on it.

He heard a click...

He nodded once, resigned and smirked, "I'll see you in hell, basterd."

You pulled your face away  from the gun for a moment. You smirked right back, looking him square in his cold, heartless eyes.

For the first time in the entirety of the war, Colonel Hans Landa was terrified...

"Tell em who sent you."

There was one gunshot.

One last bullet.

Landa was gone.

Hitler was gone.

The war was over.

Smoke fron your gun stopped rising. You lowered it. 

You were free... 

No more blood on your hands. No more bullets and guns around your waist. No more revenge.

You looked up. You looked at the forest you'd called home for a year. In the distance you saw the Alps you crawled over three years before, half-dead, attempting to find salvation. You looked down at Hans Landa, and death itself....

It wasn't in the safety of Switzerland in a warm tavern where you'd found your salvation. It was in the harsh, bloody war behind enemy lines, once upon a time in Nazi-occupied France, standing by the basterds.

"Come on, doll."

You turned around and saw Donny, waiting. "Time to go home."

You smiled, unable to belive you'd just heard those words...

Donny knew it. He smiled softly, his hands resting on your upper arms, covering scars and numbers you were now free from. "We're going home, doll. You're goin' home, just like Aldo promised." He held onto you, and you smiled, genuinely for the first time in a long time.

You looked up at him, nostalgia in your heart and freedom in your eyes as you looked at him.

He was more than a basterd to you...

"Home’s a few hours from Boston." You only half-smiled then, remembering that freedome came with a price: Goodbyes.

Donny saw the shadow of uncertainty beginning to well in your eyes. He shook his head, and wiped the tear from the corner of your eye. "I'll go anywhere in the world for you, doll."

After everything...you looked at Donny as he held your hand and led you to the jeep with the others. After everything, you finally got what you wanted. Once upon a time, in Nazi-Occupied France, seven basterds marched over to Switzerland for a night, and left with eight. A hatred fueled by distrust became a friendship fueled by broken pieces of a mystery. The basterds completed their mission.

You got revenge. You got a world without nazis.

And you got a new world with Donny... You finally got your happily ever after, in a free France, with a free future ahead of you, with Donny still by your side. This really was the best revenge you could have asked for...

Amazing art by @sodapop182​!!!

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Echoes (Aldo Raine x Reader)

Anon Request: "hellloooo :) love your stories, bb 😭 I was wondering if you could do something kinda angsty, post war and Aldo's got shell shock and feels guilty bc most of the boys never came home, and reader (fem) was a basterd and helps him through it? Sorry if it's a lot 😭 thanks love!

@inglourious-imagines @owba-chan @war-obsessed

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these! :)

It had been five years.

Five years since the war ended.

Five years since Shoshanna's theater was incinerated.

Five years since the remaining basterds went home...

Aldo had lost men. Good men.

They weren't just basterds.

They were all his brothers.

All along the way, each and every one of them faced the living breathing nightmares they called the enemy...

And after five years, the nightmares seemed to follow into their psyche.

After five years, sometimes the war still seemed to be going on.

Especially to Aldo.

He never forgave himself for losing them...

Andy Kagan...

Then Simon Sakowitz.

Then it was Michael Zimmerman.

A year passed. Everything was going so well...

Then, according to Bridget von Hammersmarck, John Hicox blew his German act.

They lost Wicki, Hugo, Bridget, John in one night. They lost Hirschberg somewhere along the line that night, and didn’t even realize it until morning.

Then Donny, and Omar.

They almost had it all.

And Aldo never forgave himself for it.

He was alright during the day. Most nights he slept like a rock because he worked so damn hard...

It was a cycle...

He worked long hours, day in and day out to keep his mind busy.

The pension that came with the medal of honor was more than enough to live off of.

The medal requested by Hans Landa.

"That fucking medal..." Aldo practically spat as he threw it into a closet the night he came home, five years before...

Hans Landa... Not a day went by without Aldo thinking about it...

Somehow, that animal survived and made a mockery of the brass, the allies, and the basterds, while most of Aldo's boys died fighting the good fight...

Aldo seemed calm and collected the day they got the medals. It was him, Smitty, you, and Landa standing together while people gave speeches about honor and bravery. The truth was Aldo didn’t listen to a word of it. The whole time, he couldn't stop thinking of murdering Landa...

The only reason he didn’t was because of you. 

The war was over. 

If he killed Landa, Aldo would be in jail for life. He’d never see you again...

Aldo also knew he was the closest thing Smitty had to a father.

Aldo kept it together from that moment on, for your sake, and for Smitty’s...

But there were times his mind was fogged over with one thought:

"If I could trade my life for theirs, they'd all be standing here right now..."

It was all in a brief glimmer of agonizing remembrance in his eyes every so often.

You held his hand when you saw it. A few times on the porch of his cabin up the Smoky Mountains. Sometimes it was in town, in Maynardville. People tended not to notice. They were just brief glimpses of the war overtaking Aldo's eyes.

You were the only one that could see it.

You only realized it because once upon a time, you were there too.

You held his hand firmly, and spoke gently, "It was war, Aldo...You couldn't change a thing..."

Sometimes he'd force a smile, and take a breath, "I know darlin'.... I know..."

Sometimes he'd just nod silently and stare into the distance...

For the most part, Aldo kept it together.

He was Aldo the Apache, after all.

He'd smile all day if Smitty called him. His heart was full when he looked at you, the girl that somehow made him the happiest man through it all.

Still, you and Smitty were all that tied Aldo to the war...

You knew that.

And that was also why you hesitated in marrying  Aldo at first. You didn't want to be a constant reminder of the war he left behind.

Soon you understood that no matter what, he couldn't leave it behind. He needed someone that understood, and that was you.

Most days, you were all he needed.

But some nights...especially around the time of year that Operation Kino happened... some nights it just wasn't enough.

It had been five years exactly.... Aldo refused to go to any military reunions, any banquets or interviews.  He went to work that morning, like he always did. After all, a basterd’s work was never done...

Aldo didn't say much that day, even to you. He left for work earlier than usual, you were still half asleep. But you felt him kiss you  on the forehead before he left.

He came home about an hour later than usual.

He wasn't drunk, but you could smell a hint of alcohol in his breath when he hugged you... He held on for a moment or two longer than usual.

Usually, you couldn't shut him up at dinner. Usually, his belly laugh would make your heart sing. He'd usually clear his plate in the blink of an eye and sweep you away to listen about your day, or listen to the radio.

But that night, he was silent. He hardly ate a thing.

He murmured a sincere but quiet "Thank you, darlin'..." as he got up and then silently washed the dishes...

You sat at the table for some time, wondering how you could change his mind.

It wasn't his fault...

Order were orders.  You all knew what you’d gotten yourselves into when you agreed to do Operation Kino.

It was the war, not him, that got the boys killed.

That fucking war....

You went to the living room to find him...or hoping to find him.

But he wasn't there...

You peeked out the window onto the porch, expecting to see him sitting there and smoking.

Nothing. The night was dark. Mist and fog was beginning to float up the  mountain. The crickets were all you could hear...  You shut your eyes, and you could hear the crickets in the middle of the night, back in France. You could hear Donny fighting Omar over: The Red Sox were definitely better than the Giants. You could hear Wicki and Hugo’s arguments. You could hear Hirschberg and Smitty talking about home.   You opened your eyes, and shook your head as your heart sank with a teary smile...

"Aldo??"

You looked around the cabin until you finally reached your bedroom...

You sighed.

You gently pushed open the door, and walked into the dim room.

Only the light from the hall seeping in.

You saw his outline, sitting on his edge of the bed.

It was only seven o clock.

But...it was the fifth time it had happened.

You got into bed by him, and laid there silently.

Eventually, he laid by you. You slipped your arms around him,  "I love you..."

You felt the tension in his shoulder ease just an ounce as he said "I love you too." You could tell he was hurting, but you knew him. He wouldn’t talk about it because you were there. You knew too well what was in his mind. This was the best you could do...after five years, you knew that. 

About an hour passed. You were still holding on to Aldo. The entire time, you'd been praying for them. For all the basterds you lost...

Even for Smitty, who was about to become a father...

You noticed Aldo's breathing had slowed down. He had finally fallen asleep...

You slowly let go of him, and looked to the ceiling, thinking of the good times you all had...hoping your prayers were enough as you closed your eyes.

It was about three in the morning.

Aldo's nightmares that night  were reflections of the worst of war... He lost them all over again. He watched each and every one of his boys die. Somehow, he lost Smitty, and he lost you...

Over and over again.

It never ended. 

The droning of bombers flying low, the marching nazi boots...

No amount of scalps changed what happened back there.

What was done was done... Those boys were never coming home. Bridget would never trip the light fantastique up another red carpet again.

 Shoshanna and Marcel would never be recognized for anything...

Aldo was shaking in his sleep, angry at the nazis, never having so much hate for them than at that moment... Angry that he couldn't save his boys... He was sweating, shivering, tossing around, losing them for the thousandth time in the night, "NOOO! NOOOO! NO! FUCK! FUUUUCK!  BOYS I'M SORRY! BABY NO! I'M SORRY! I'M FUCKING SORRY!-"

You shot up, scared for a moment, but realizing what was happening.

Aldo could see blood. He could hear engines and marching boots. He could see his basterds’ corpses.

"Sh, sh, it's ok, Aldo! Aldo, listen listen to me, you're home! You're  home, love... Sh..." You held onto him, swaying gently trying to calm him down.

He leaned his head against your chest, you ran your hands through his hair as he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. He listened to  your heartbeat

The only thing that reminded him you were alive...

He at least still had you...

He could still hear he marching...the screaming. He could see the fire...

"Aldo...It's over now. It's all over..."

He held onto you, his hands resting shakily on your ribs, where there was a scar. A deep gash that ran from your side to your chest.

Nazis once tried to take you from him.  You comforted Aldo all those years ago, the night he almost lost you...a hun couldn't cut out your heart because Aldo already had it...

That night broke Aldo.

That was the night he lost his first basterd, and the night he realized he loved you.

It was the night he realized the boys were more than just his soldiers.

They were his family...

And after all those years, it hurt knowing that he'd never see them again...

It was war, but it was never ok.

You were all he had. You, and the rare visits with Smitty.

Sometimes it all seemed in vain.

There were hordes of nazis that got away with it...

One of them was living on Nantucket fucking Island...

Sometimes it made Aldo scoff...

If Donny were around, he would've personally made sure Landa never stepped a goddamn foot in Massachusetts.

It was a disgrace... sometimes Aldo felt like his work was never done.

But there was nothing he could do about it. The war was over, and he couldn’t go back in time.

He knew that.

He was back up the Smoky Mountains, back in Maynardville Tennessee. He had you to hold, and no one to fight off.

No more guns firing, no more tanks. 

No more basterds...

It was just you and Aldo...

It wasn't easy... There were times he felt it never would be.

A basterds work was never done, but he wasn't alone.

He had you. 

[plasmapoolplasma-blog]

Assorted Writings on Inglourious Basterds Vol. 3

This is the third entry in a four-part series covering Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. Read the first part here and the second part here. The last installment will appear tomorrow.

13. The Truth About Brad Pitt

The dirty secret of Brad Pitt's career is that he's a boring leading man and an electric character actor. Mike D'Angelo has written the best piece on this subject, so read that, but all one has to do is watch him in True Romance (this one too), Burn After Reading ("I thought you might be worried ... about the security ... of your shit"), 12 Monkeys, Snatch, and to a lesser extent Fight Club, and you'll know that he was born to play goofballs and pyschopaths. Aldo the Apache is one of these characters, a larger-than-life fella with a cartoonish accent and a predilection for Nazi scalps. Pitt's gets most of the best lines and is very funny in the role, but he's unfortunately only funny. It always feels like another actor could have done more with this character, particularly because the man is clearly supposed to be very scary. But Pitt doesn't embody every aspect of Aldo, and while I'm not sure who could have done a better job (maybe Nicolas Cage?), I think the potential was there. This is still one of Pitt's best performance (and I don't mean that as a backhanded compliment -- I love him in everything listed above), but it's missing something. 14. The Most Ambitious Scene Tarantino Has Ever Done The centerpiece of Inglourious Basterds, the tavern meeting, has very little narrative function. The primary movers are Major Hellstrom, Bridget von Hammersmarck, and Lt. Hicox, only one of whom has had any screen time prior to this chapter, and that was just when he picked up Shoshanna to take her to the meeting with Goebbels. These three (along with Wicki, Stiglitz, and the German soldier Wilhelm) are asked to control the entire scene and hold our interest even though it's not very clear why they're important. The only pieces of information that must be communicated by the scene are that the venue of the premiere has changed and that Hitler will be in attendance, and the audience already knows about the former from the preceding chapter. In the grander narrative scheme, something must happen that causes Aldo Raine to attend the premiere in place of Hicox or one of the Basterds, and von Hammersmarck needs to lose her shoe so Waltz can interrogate her later. In a lesser movie, this scene would take five or ten minutes. There would be an ambush, von Hammersmarck would lose her shoe, and Raine would replace one of the dead Basterds. But Tarantino turns it into a thirty-minute digression that holds your attention the entire time. Throughout, you get the sense of just how quickly this plan can be foiled; Hicox's use of his three middle fingers to signal "three" is the minor tell that eventually foils the operation, but it could have been any number of other errors that tipped off Hellstrom. More than any other scene in the film, this one communicates what makes Tarantino such an exciting talent. He's willing to take tons of chances, believes in his audience enough to assume that we will follow him throughout, and trusts his actors to make it all work. It's ambitious precisely because he's willing to let the momentum of the entire movie depend on what is functionally a very minor piece of the puzzle. 15. HUGO STIGLITZ!!! Only one of the Basterds gets an origin story: Hugo Stiglitz, the Nazi soldier who turned on his own forces and was then busted out of prison by the Basterds. As played by Til Schweiger, a German actor previously best known to Americans for playing a humorless Formula One driver in the notoriously shitty Sylvester Stallone vehicle Driven, Stiglitz is a total loose cannon who's always seems on the verge of pulling a knife on anyone. In short, he's what Mr. Blonde would've been if he were less garrulous and German in the '40s. So it's a bit odd that he's the only one to get an origin story. We see him killing Nazis and being whipped for who knows what reason (by the Nazis? by someone earlier in his life?), but none of these flashbacks explain anything about Stiglitz -- he's still just an angry guy who likes to kill. This has major implications for the morality of the Basterds. Yes, killing Nazis has some kind of moral force to it, but the decision to bring Stiglitz into the fold calls into question exactly why Lt. Raine decided to have his outfit consist of nothing but Jews in the first place. Tarantino has said that the Basterds are part of a "holy war" against the Nazis, but Stiglitz's presence makes it seem like Aldo's more concerned with finding people who will kill as many Nazis as possible; Jews were the choice merely because they're more likely to really hate Nazis. This doesn't mean the Basterds are entirely immoral, but it does make the entire mission seem less pure than it would otherwise. 16. Tarantino the Visual Stylist Everyone lauds QT for his dialogue, but over his last few films he's become a master visual stylist, too. (And props to Director of Photography Robert Richardson, of course.) Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Jackie Brown have some great shots (the opening and end of Jackie Brown, both which feature Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street," are my favorite examples), but these are primarily showcases for Tarantino's skills as a writer. Somewhere between Jackie Brown and Kill Bill, Tarantino decided that he was the next John Woo and learned how to shoot violence like few others. The Crazy 88s sequence is primarily an example of someone saying "look at all the ways I can shoot a sword going into a body and blood spurting out of that body," and then Tarantino goes and makes the fight between The Bride and O-Ren Ishii beautiful for entirely different reasons. The car crashes and chases in Death Proof are some of the best ever captured, but my favorite shot in the entire movie (and, in fact, one of my favorite shots of the entire decade) is the way Rosario Dawson's face shifts from terror to absolute joy over the course of a few a seconds (go to 2:35 in this clip). It's the kind of shot that communicates the excitement of movies in an incredibly simple way. Inglourious Basterds is full of amazing shots, and I will just list a few of them without explanation so I don't make myself sound too pretentious:

1. The Dreyfus children peering up through the floorboards of the LaPadite farmhouse. 2. Sawdust flying up towards the camera as the SS fires through the floorboards. 3. Hitler looking totally frazzled as a stately mural of him is painted in the background. 4. The Basterds coming out from the shadows to greet Stiglitz in his cell. 5. Holding the camera on Shoshanna when Landa enters the restaurant during the Goebbels meeting. 6. The frantic cuts from guns firing to bullets entering flesh in the tavern shootout. 7. Bridget von Hammersmarck announcing that she has survived the shootout. 8. The series of shots of Shoshanna by the window that open the "Cat People (Putting Out the Fire)" sequence. 9. Any closeup of Shoshanna putting on makeup. 10. Blood bursting from Shoshanna's body after Zoller shoots her. 11. Shoshanna's image beginning to burst into flames. 12. Shoshanna's face projected on the smoke as her theater burns.

If you can't tell, Tarantino really liked filming Melanie Laurent. I can't blame him. 17. How Tarantino Is Like David Lynch There's a moment at the end of David Foster Wallace's essay on David Lynch in A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again that I can't quote directly because someone has my copy of the book right now, but it gets very close to this bit from the version of the essay that was actually printed in Premiere:

Most of Lynch's best films don't really have much of a point, and in lots of ways they seem to resist the film-interpretative process by which movies' (certainly avant-garde movies') central points are understood. This is something the British critic Paul Taylor seems to get at when he says that Lynch's movies are "to be experienced rather than explained." ... You almost never from a Lynch movie get the sense that the point is to "entertain" you, and never that the point is to get you to fork over money to see it. This is one of the unsettling things about a Lynch movie: You don't feel like you're entering into any of the standard unspoken and/or unconscious contracts you normally enter into with other kinds of movies. This is unsettling because in the absence of such an unconscious contract we lose some of the psychic protections we normally (and necessarily) bring to bear on a medium as powerful as film. That is, if we know on some level what a movie wants from us, we can erect certain internal defenses that let us choose how much of ourselves we give away to it.

Tarantino isn't exactly like this, because his movies aren't creepy in the same way as Lynch, but they share an ability to marry opposites in unsettling ways. The bit I really wanted to quote from the ASFTINDA version concerns a critic who considers Sheryl Lee's performance in Lynch's Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me to be an expression of occasional good, occasional evil, or maybe both at the same time. DFW's response to this comment is to exclaim "Of course both!" and it's exactly that combination of contradictory elements that makes Tarantino's films get in your head. The best discussion of Inglourious Basterds I've seen on the web took place at the awesomely titled blog Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule, and site proprietor Dennis Cozzalio touched on this same point there, with the help of a commenter named Caustic Ignostic, who I will quote now:

It's not that IB is a cerebral film masquerading as a visceral film, or a visceral film that critics are inappropriately reading as a cerebral film. It's a cerebral *and* visceral film. I suspect QT would scoff at the notion that he had to choose, or that the audience wants to choose.

Exactly! Of course both! Tarantino has watched enough genre films in life to appreciate cheap thrills, but he also has legitimate opinions on Francois Truffaut and Wong Kar Wai and any number of other thoughtful directors from the history of the medium. He proved this recently when he listed his twenty favorite movies since 1992. This is a list that includes everything from retarded action like Blade and Speed to Brechtian drama Dogville to rambling high school hangout movie Dazed and Confused. The man's tastes vary, and at his best he's able to bring together all these sensibilities in the same film. Many reviewers have tried to say that this is only a movie about the power of movies or a simple revenge fantasy or a disgusting piece of shit. But the truth is that it's all these things, and that's what makes it so damn good.

[plasmapoolplasma-blog]

Assorted Writings on Inglourious Basterds Vol. 1

This is the first entry in a four-part series covering Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds. The last three parts will appear daily through the rest of this week.

1. The Myth, The Legend, The Man

It's hard to know how seriously one should take Quentin Tarantino's work. In interviews, he comes across as an obnoxious tool, a filmmaker more concerned with seeming cool than making meaningful art. To be fair, his movies provide ample evidence for this case; they luxuriate in genre excesses and often don't seem to be about anything other than their own production. Sometimes it seems like he just wants to impress us with how many movies he's watched, and bonus points if he can somehow find a way to fit Samuel L. Jackson in there.

At the same time, no one denies that Tarantino is a supremely talented writer and director with a distinct voice, and no other popular director in America can compare. Tarantino may be more interested in pure entertainment than other auteurs, but he does have his themes and concerns: conceptions of honor, the interplay between what an audience expects and what it receives, and the role of violence in cinema. These ideas aren't necessarily foregrounded, but they're present.

Still, Tarantino the public figure is really annoying, and in many interviews he seems to disavow any intention to make the audience think beyond visceral thrills. Maybe this doesn't matter much -- it's possible to get something out of a piece of art without having the creator's expressed written consent -- but whatever Tarantino says about his films is bound to affect what we read into them. Watching a Tarantino movie involves a constant push-pull between moment-to-moment enjoyment and more substantive consideration.

2. Changing Languages

There’s a moment in the first scene of Inglourious Basterds that exemplifies why I like this movie so much, and Tarantino’s work in general. Colonel Landa visits the French farmer LaPadite to inquire about two Jewish children he knows to be hiding under the farmer’s floorboards. The two men begin their conversation in French, but after a few minutes Landa asks if they may switch to English, since the farmer apparently speaks it quite well. At first, this moment seems to be an in-joke on the part of Tarantino, non-English-speaking characters in American movies usually just speak English with foreign accents. Isn’t this silly, Tarantino seems to be saying, so I’ll just make them switch to English and save you the trouble of having to read these pesky subtitles.

Except it turns out there was a very good reason for Landa to switch to English -- the hidden Jews only speak French, and they must not know that Landa knows they’re in the house for his plan to work. But here’s the really important thing: even though the switch to English plays a narrative role, it remains an effective bit of commentary on cinematic tropes. Meta-commentary isn’t separate from what makes for an engaging story.

3. Even More Praise for Christoph Waltz

When Inglourious Basterds premiered at Cannes, the big story was the performance of Christoph Waltz, a heretofore unknown Austrian-born actor who's mostly worked in German TV, as Col. Hans Landa, "The Jew Hunter." Landa is in many ways an impossible character to play, to the point Tarantino thought he might have to scrap the project entirely: he seems to speak every language on Earth, is equal parts terrifying and goofy, is excessively polite as an interrogator to the point of comedy, and seems more interested in his ability than in the Nazi cause even though he carries out their plan with frightening efficiency. But Waltz nails every bit of this character from the minute he steps on screen. His line readings here surprise to a degree usually only achieved by Nicolas Cage, except this is actually a good movie and not The Wicker Man or Know1ng. One can only hope Hollywood doesn’t make Waltz a stock European bad guy from now on.

4. The Basterds As Jews

Plasma Pool’s own Kevin Hilke watched Inglourious Basterds and remarked that the Basterds don’t really seem to be Jews outside of the fact that everyone says they’re Jewish. As a mostly secular Jew, this comment confused me a bit, both because it’s not something I’d thought of before and because I have no idea what would constitute Jewish behavior for the Basterds (or myself, for that matter).

There’s a long history of films depicting Jews during World War II as vessels of suffering, which makes some amount of sense since the Holocaust is the most Jew-centric event of the war. (The one exception I can think of is Adam Goldberg’s character in Saving Private Ryan.) Movies like Schindler’s List and The Pianist are very well-made, but no one really feels compelled to watch them more than once because they're so solemn, and Tarantino has said that he made Basterds in many ways as a response to these kinds of films. However, the Suffering Jew is such an established character in WW2 cinema that Kevin’s right: it’s a little odd to see a Jewish character not engaging in any Jewish activities such as lighting Shabbat candles, reading from the Torah, or even just saying he hates the Nazis because they killed his people. It’s not necessary for the Basterds to act like Zohanian super-yids, but they’re essentially Jewish only because the movie says they are.

I’m not sure this really matters -- after all, Nazis didn’t distinguish between Jews who practiced and those who just had Jewish blood, and maybe getting violently pissed about Nazis killing Jews is enough of a signifier of Jewishness. But it's worth noting that Tarantino strips the Basterds of the Suffering Jew label by stripping them of most broadly identifiable Jewish signifiers.

5. A Few Words on Diane Kruger

Christoph Waltz gives the best performance in Inglourious Basterds, but he got so much advance praise that his excellence wasn’t that surprising. The biggest revelation of this movie is Diane Kruger as the German actress/spy Bridget von Hammersmarck.

Prior to this film, Kruger’s Hollywood career consisted mostly of looking pretty in studio tentpoles like Troy (in which she played Helen of Troy, thus proving my point entirely) and the incredibly underrated National Treasure movies. She never showed depth in these roles, and I’m not sure I can even describe anything about her performance in any of these movies. Outside of her looks, she was unmemorable.

So I was somewhat surprised that I bought her character here within literally three seconds of her coming on screen. This is a tough role to play – we learn basically nothing about her beyond her two occupations, and it requires a ‘40s style of acting for the von Hammersmarck celebrity personality and an additional layer between her public face as an actress and her role as a spy. To put it another way, Kruger needs to employ the ‘40s style and a more contemporary technique simultaneously. She doesn’t have a false moment in the entire performance.

The only shame is that parts like this one usually don’t exist and she’ll be forced to return to the dull roles that had marked her career up until this point. I almost wish she’d just quit Hollywood and work only in Europe. (Also, did you know that French actor/director Guillaume Canet used to be married to Kruger and now lives with Marion Cotillard? What an asshole.)

6. An Interstitial Music Video

Tarantino has always been fantastic at using music, and the most arresting use of it here is the music video-ish montage of Shoshanna Dreyfus getting ready for her moment of revenge set to David Bowie’s “Cat People (Putting Out the Fire).” This song is relentlessly ‘80s, but it works in this setting because it QT matches it to some absolutely tremendous shots of Shoshanna putting on her makeup as war paint and preparing her projector as if it were a weapon.

I’m sorry if this analysis basically consists of my saying how awesome this scene is, but I'm doing it because the scene is really awesome, a perfect example of how music can produce excitement even when it shouldn’t logically arise. Detractors often deride Tarantino for eliciting cheap thrills, but watch the “Cat People” montage and then try to argue that the excitement it produces is somehow less true than something that feel more “earned.” Up until this point, Shoshanna's plan has been given a little over a minute of screen time. Once this montage is over, everyone in the theater wants to see how it goes down.

7. This Movie Is Really Weird

A few weeks ago, Glenn Kenny analyzed the very peculiar structure of Basterds and figured out there are only sixteen scenes, which is pretty odd considering most two-hour movies have forty to sixty.

But there’s so much more weirdness. The longest scene consists of an exchange with little narrative function. Major characters disappear for more than an hour at a time. The movie is almost entirely dialogue, plus it’s in four languages and subtitled. The advertising campaign made it seem like the Basterds would be the centerpiece of the movie, but they’re pretty clearly minor characters and many of them don’t even have any lines, yet they are still the title characters. Samuel L. Jackson serves as a narrator, but you only hear his voice two are three times for a total of a few minutes. There are Tarantino’s usual references to the history of film, but this time he namechecks German cinema of the ‘30s and ‘40s instead of kung fu and car chases.

Even so, this movie is a huge hit and audiences love it. To be sure, Tarantino serves up a lot of things that you don’t get in your usual arthouse fare, but it’s still somewhat shocking that audiences have responded so positively to this movie. Every so often, popular reception of a work of art reaffirms your faith in the taste of the general public, and this one has to be considered a success even if it just exposes more people to foreign films.